Strategist
by iannageorge
Summary: If there was one person Malcolm could blame for all this, it was Percy... Percy had this insane idea. An extremely risky plan that Athena would never approve of. But by now, after a decade of being best friends with Annabeth, including six years of dating her, Percy, Malcolm realized, had come to understand how children of Athena operated. He knew what got them to tick...
1. Malcolm meets an aggravating princess

**Chapter 1: In which Malcolm encounters an aggravating sea princess**

If there was one person Malcolm could blame for all this, it was Percy.

Percy had this insane idea. An extremely risky plan that Athena would never approve of. But by now, after a decade of being best friends with Annabeth, including six years of dating her, Percy, Malcolm realized, had come to understand how children of Athena operated. He knew what got them to tick.

* * *

It had been a sunny Saturday July morning at Camp Half-Blood. The calming waves of Long Island Sound would have driven anyone to a siesta were it not for the commotion brought about by the camp's residents, who were currently embroiled in a game of capture the flag.

Leading one side of the game were the children of Hermes, who had quickly recruited Cabin Three. Opposing them were the children of Ares, who had fought tooth and nail to enlist Cabin Six.

Before the game had even started, the battle had begun. Cheating had been rampant, hexes had been thrown about, and an ancient rivalry had been exploited. Already inflamed campers only escalated their jeers and taunts. Whether one could blame the juicy rivalry or simply ingroup-outgroup bias (or both), an onlooker might've thought there were two battles to be waged.

Add the extra rivalry to the inclusion of the Romans, the two added flags in play, and a hefty dose of pride at stake and you get two hundred and thirteen geared up demigods, satyrs, and nymphs anticipating a war that could get real ugly, real fast.

At the sound of the horns, clouds arrived on scene, turning the sky an ugly gray. With a thunderclap, rain started to pour. With Clarisse coordinating defense south of Zephyros Creek, Annabeth, Frank, and Malcolm headed north. Malcolm—invisible under Annabeth's Yankees cap—ran towards the edge of the woods, taking down a daughter of Hecate and two children of Hermes in his wake.

Sure enough, Hermes had set down a flag near Long Island Sound. Smart perhaps, but predictable. Now if he could set up traps before anyone noticed his footprints—

A sudden force knocked him to an empty clearing. The Yankees cap flew five meters away.

"What's up, Malcolm?" a familiar voice called behind him.

Malcolm rose into a crouch and stood to face Percy Jackson. Percy struck first. Malcolm parried his assault—but Percy blocked his counter. They got into the rhythm of a violent dance, whirling and side-stepping, slashing and whacking. Malcolm let instinct take over, catching Riptide's arc with his xíphos and dishing some blows of his own.

The rain poured on the men and swirled around them, collecting into ropes that encircled the son of Athena. Malcolm dodged the force of water and rolled beneath it.

He rose yet again. His xíphos and wits were enough to handle Riptide, but he still couldn't dodge all the incoming jets. And what did the water care if it was slashed by a blade?

Percy formed an opaque barrier of rain around them, blocking any chance of Malcolm's escape.

"Don't take this personally, okay?" Percy said. He sent ropes of water from all directions towards Malcolm. They circled Malcolm's body and slid the xíphos out of his hand. "And don't fight back," Percy told him.

The water threw Malcolm towards the breaking waves in the beach.

Surprisingly, Malcolm landed softly. But before he could even think, he was pulled by the waves and dragged a nearly hundred meters away from the shore.

_ Shit. _

Disarmed from his xíphos, ensnared by the water, and cold as hell with nowhere to turn and no one to save him, Malcolm was done for—and curious to know just how much Percy held back on all other occasions. He'd never seen Percy fight more dirty. This was just one of the times there was simply no way to outmatch sheer force.

Malcolm got his wits about him and took Percy's advice. _ Don't fight back. _ Survival 101 dictates: don't swim against the current. The only way out was to first swim parallel to the beach.

It wasn't easy with his cuirass weighing him down, but he couldn't not try. The rip was about twenty meters wide, narrow enough to escape. Maybe afterwards he could find his way to the shore. That is, if—a big IF—Percy forgot about him. That didn't seem likely. Malcolm could see his tall figure approaching step by step on the beach.

Malcolm evaluated his options. He still had his trusty grappling hook. Maybe he could use it to pull himself further away from the current.

As he reached for the device, the thought occurred to him: What if he negligently killed a fish? Or, gods forbid, an endangered turtle? And over what? A meaningless game?

And if it didn't catch an animal, what was it going latch onto? A wave? What a joke.

And then what? Was he really going to try to outswim a son of Poseidon?

Percy's distant figure disappeared into the water. In seconds, he rose just a meter away from Malcolm and sat himself cross-legged on the surface, floating like a bored punk Jesus with Annabeth's cap in hand.

Malcolm stopped swimming. There was no point anymore.

"You're in deep water," said the son of Poseidon before his lips formed into a triumphant grin. "I've always wanted to say that."

As annoyed as Malcolm was at the situation and as disappointed as he was in himself to get kicked out this early, he was impressed. Effective strategy, topped off with a solid pun. Percy had every right to be cocky. But Malcolm held back the compliment. Maybe later.

"You just wanted to take down Annabeth's right hand, huh?" he accused, meeting Percy's good-humored, sea-green eyes.

The wind breezed through Percy's jet black hair as he observed Malcolm. "That's usually me," Percy said.

_ True._ But Malcolm could still call first.

"So…" Malcolm said. "Riptide and a riptide? Fancy."

"It's actually a rip current," Percy said. "People mix them up. And undertows, too. Ugh. Trust me, they're not the same. Natural rip currents are caused by the shape of the shoreline and can drag you into the water up to eight feet a second. Riptides happen in places where flow is constricted and they're way more predictable, but they're usually much stronger and they pull you much farther away from the shore."

Malcolm was barely paying attention. He tried to think of something. Anything. "What a nerd."

"Coming from a child of Athena?" said Percy. "Thanks."

"So what are undertows then?"

"Like you can't Google it later."

"Why not go with a riptide?" Malcolm asked. "Would've made for better theatrics."

"The theatrics weren't worth it," said Percy. "What did you want me to do? Hold back all the flow into the beach? I wasn't gonna risk _ drowning _ you. I'm also not going to risk _ talking _ to you until you come up with a plan to escape. I've seen Annabeth fight and I've rewatched too many Kim Possible episodes with my sister to make that mistake."

_ Ya got me. _

"I've got a challenge for you," Percy said. "And if you're anything like Annabeth, you'll appreciate an interesting challenge."

Just like that, Percy's words held him in a vise. Malcolm wouldn't be able to swim away freely, even if Percy allowed him to.

Percy offered him a deal: "I won't take you to the jail. You'll remain in the game if you do me a favor. At no cost to you."

"No cost," Malcolm repeated.

"I figured I could trust you." Percy held out his hand.

A challenge that came at no cost? Percy had practically blackmailed him. (And how stupid would he be not to take advantage of the situation? Even KP never got an offer that generous.)

"You can," Malcolm said, clasping Percy's hand.

Malcolm was immediately rewarded with dry warmth. An air bubble encased him, shielding him from the water as Percy took them under the surface.

Percy took out a folded up paper from his back pocket. "Give this to Annabeth. Secretly."

"That's it?" Malcolm said, more than a little offended.

"That's part one. Annabeth'll figure it out."

Malcolm eyed it warily. "It's not inappropriate, is it?"

Percy looked affronted. "_Bro_."

Malcolm shrugged.

"You can open it," Percy said. "It's harmless."

Malcolm took the paper and unfolded it to reveal a picture of an ancient citadel he recognized. "The Acropolis. Cool. You know, passing notes to Annabeth doesn't constitute a challenge."

There wasn't even any writing—not on the front, not on the back. No marks against the light either. It was just a postcard.

_ So why the Acropolis? Why a postcard? _Malcolm's mind whirred with possible answers: Acropolis. Athens. City. Patron. Poseidon. Athena. Contest. Saltwater spring. Olive tree. Rivalry.

"Like I said, she'll figure it out," Percy said.

Annabeth. Percy. _Argo II_. Athens. Acropolis. A promise.

"No, let me guess," said Malcolm. "You want Cabin Six to team up with you."

_ But why a postcard? Why not something as simple as verbal words? _

Percy's lips quirked up. He didn't even look the least bit guilty.

_ Oh. To show this was his plan A. _ Malcolm was intrigued. _ So what's the catch? _

No. This was Percy. There was never a catch. So what was his motive?

"Why?" asked Malcolm simply. "You just don't wanna fight Annabeth and want us to get the glory of winning together with you, or…?"

"Yeah, me. Not Hermes," Percy said. "Or Ares."

A shot of adrenaline flowed into Malcolm's veins. "You mean…"

"Yeah."

Malcolm couldn't help but entertain himself with the thought. A short laugh escaped involuntarily before he sobered. "There are only eight of us," he pointed out.

"And by now only—what, a hundred and fifty of them left max? Don't tell me you've never thought about whether Athena could steamroll the whole camp."

Yes. Which Athena camper hadn't wondered about the extent of Cabin Six's capabilities? Percy was perceptive enough to figure out that secret (unless, of course, Annabeth had told him about that).

It wasn't like the hundred fifty or so would be expecting it anyway, right? And with their combined skill and power… _ Dear gods. _

"How in the hell d'you come up with this?" Malcolm asked.

"Honestly? People kept making Romeo and Juliet references 'cause of the whole parental rivalry thing, but it seemed stupid to me since Romeo and Juliet killed themselves," he said. "As Paul likes to remind his students," he added in a mutter. "So, I thought it'd be better to do a reverse Romeo and Juliet."

"A what?"

Percy shrugged in his typical easy-breezy nonchalance. "Instead of killing themselves, they kill everyone else."

And that was something that Malcolm had taken a few years to realize about him. Everyone thought Percy was selfless. They saw him as the ever loyal lover and friend who'd always put his life on the line to save others. But they were wrong. Percy was loyal, yes, but he was also extremely selfish.

How many times had Percy demonstrated that even the wellbeing of the world wouldn't be enough of a reward for him to counter the loss of his girlfriend? To what extreme lengths had he willingly gone not to cope with that much disutility?

Yeah, no one needed compensating variation or Hicksian demand functions to come to that conclusion.

"See, this is exactly why Athena doesn't trust you," Malcolm reminded him.

Percy smiled his trademark troublemaker smile before facing Malcolm with a more serious look. "But it's also why she does," he said.

_ Huh. _

"And both her judgments are in your favor," Percy pointed out. "So which side do you want to play on?"

Insane as it was, Percy's plan made sense. Athena would have never approved, no, but she would have probably been impressed. Percy was both crazier and wiser than he was given credit for.

But Percy hadn't seemed to consider one thing.

"And in the end?" Malcolm asked. "There's seven of us and only one of you. What makes you think we won't conspire to take you down?"

"Yeah, my plan only went that far," Percy said. "If you want to, go ahead. But I'd prefer it if we call truce and build more chariots or whatever than continue this stupid rivalry." His gaze pierced through Malcolm. "I'm not gonna fight any of you," he said, speaking with the certainty Malcolm would only trust from his family. It was a promise. The truth and nothing but. "I've had enough, even before that Hecate kid tried to brainwash me with that hate smoke potion, whatever that was. And even if you do knock me out, 99% of the time, we'd still be a team."

Malcolm mouth quirked on a side as he nodded up at Percy. "How many times did you rehearse that?"

Percy cracked a grin, cocking his head in admission. "I guess not as much as I should have."

But Percy had convinced him enough. Him and the rest of the cabin: Annabeth (no questions asked), Claire (the competitive athlete), Conrad (Claire's devious twin), Sophie (wary but ultimately undeterred by the calculated risk), Zeke (thankful for finally having the opportunity to try this scheme), and Alicia (the six-year-old duckling who'd imprinted on her eldest siblings).

Through stealthy exchanges of intel and sly manipulation of their unknowing "teammates", the group of eight executed their plan and did their own part to drive down the active soldier count.

While the Athenians carefully avoided Percy on the battlefield and dragged out Ares's offense, Percy let Hermes sacrifice eleven to defeat Nico and Hazel alone (which, of course, only meant thirteen fewer campers to deal with) and convinced Hermes to set up a second HQ on a small ship in Long Island Sound.

The battle continued well into the night until the two official sides reached a stalemate and called truce until dawn. The truce wasn't followed, of course (there was neither enough trust nor enough incentive not to cheat in the case of their prisoner's dilemma), so each side took turns keeping watch, letting their littlest ones sleep.

By now, Eos had risen, opening the gates for Apollo to soon pass with his sun chariot.

Under Annabeth's Yankees cap, Malcolm made his way from the Ares base to Cabin Three. He snuck in through the open window and heard snickering coming from inside.

Annabeth was peering at the contents on a table as she braided her blonde hair. Her boyfriend meanwhile was searching for a shirt, the tattoos he'd gotten in recent years in full display: Aνναβεθ in elegant calligraphy, a drawn-by-Estelle star (for none other than his sister Estelle), a hammerhead shark (he said it was cool), and an anchor (because he was into nautical references, but Malcolm had suspicions it meant some sort of sappy shit relating to Annabeth).

Malcolm took off the cap. "Really, guys?"

"We were actually looking at maps, though," a now-fully-clothed Percy told him.

"Sure."

_ Looking at maps. _That was Percy's dumb coverup nine years ago. It had become their thing. Red-faced as Malcolm had been when he walked in on fourteen-year-old Percy and Annabeth hugging each other, he made sure to whip out the phrase and satisfyingly watch Percy turn pink every time he caught the couple sneaking off to do cutesy things. Eventually, Percy became desensitized and no longer cared who caught them, but it had been fun while it lasted.

"Malcolm, I am literally looking at a map," said Annabeth, holding up what was indeed a map with what he guessed were markings of the Hermes plan.

"And you can blame Frank," Percy said. "Dude wouldn't stop following Annabeth."

So Frank knew not to trust her. But as long as Malcolm fed Percy the intel and Annabeth only collected, no one could blame her for the leaks.

"So your solution was to…?"

"Make out?" Annabeth finished. "It works every time."

Malcolm supposed he couldn't blame them. It was the perfect excuse. And that it had been Frank of all people? *Chef's kiss.*

Malcolm updated them on the developments. "I got Clarisse to reorganize, so the twins are heading to the ship now. For all she knows, it'll be under Ares's possession soon. Zeke, Soph, and Allie are still with Ares, but they're by one of the flags over here by Zeus's Fist." He pointed to the west side of the woods.

"So what are we three doing now?" Percy said, looking to the Athena siblings. "Finally capture a flag or keep kicking 'em out little by little so no one notices?"

They scanned the map for opportunities.

_ "Or _we go for straight the heads," Malcolm thought aloud, turning to Annabeth. "Plan 16b?"

"What's plan 16b?" Percy said.

"Hidden decapitation strike," Annabeth clarified. "We isolate the leaders and remove command and control so the teams are disorganized."

"And they'll probably fracture and fight for leadership," Malcolm added, "which makes things easier for us."

A part of him felt guilty to use nearly the same tactic that helped wreak havoc on his hometown—especially since the exact point of plan 16 was to wipe out as many people as they could with so little effort. But it _ was _ effective _ and _ efficient.

"But let's not kill their bases," Annabeth said. "We don't need them scattered everywhere. They'd just be more difficult to hunt down."

_ Good plan. _ Another thing his city hadn't been prepared for. Well, they knew that now.

"So we go for Ares first," Annabeth said. "If I have to report to Clarisse at the base in fifteen, we could turn Percy in—"

"Turn Percy in?"

"I didn't mean _ actually _ turn you in, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told him with her affectionate smile. "Actually, you do it, Malcolm."

"So," said Malcolm, "I bring you"—he looked at Percy—"to the base and tell Clarisse that you know who the traitor is but won't talk. Frank could help so he's there, too."

"Then I show up with Clarisse and whichever Ares/Mars honchos are there," said Annabeth. "Three of us can take them all down, right?"

"Is there a water supply at the base?"

"Pretty sure."

Percy smirked. "Then sure we can."

One sneaky ploy, two busted water tanks, and three wearied demigods later, Annabeth, Percy, and Malcolm restrained an outraged Clarisse, a betrayed Frank, a dumbfounded Sherman, and a disappointed Ellis.

_ So long, Larry Hoover. Let the chaos begin. _

With her Yankees cap, Annabeth left to steal Leo's comms gear (she was a better hacker than Malcolm) and aid Zeke, Sophia, and Alicia. If all went according to plan, they'd bring the two Ares flags to the ship, leaving Percy and Malcolm to capture the fourth and final flag from Hermes.

But on their way to the Hermes base, a jet black, winged stallion blocked their path and frantically neighed.

Percy faced the son of Athena with a wolf stare that could rival those Malcolm had seen in the Great Lakes. "They took Alicia," Percy said.

Malcolm opened his mouth.

"Ares."

"Gods damn psychos," Malcolm blazed. "She's six!"

Percy relayed Blackjack's message: "After Sophie got the flag and headed with Guido to the ship, Ares forces split up Alicia and Zeke. Annabeth found him, but they're stuck chasing the ones who know we're in on something. They might lead them to Alicia."

Blackjack, bless him, had already issued an Amber Alert to other pegasi. Porkpie was apparently leading the search party and called on Guido to alert the other Athenians.

"So now we get a Hermes flag," Percy said. "They want one in exchange."

_ As what? Ransom? Are they fucking serious? _ Malcolm held in his protest, took a moment to breathe, and prepared to get to work.

"Also, Blackjack knows where the flag is."

For a moment, Malcolm actually relaxed. "I love your horse."

"Tell him yourself."

Malcolm got a nudge from a horse head in response.

As Blackjack galloped them away, Malcolm's chest grew heavier. They were getting farther and farther away from the creek.

"Percy?"

"Yeah, I can't. I'm drained."

It only got worse. Though they could still see the creek, it must've been forty meters behind the flag, which itself was about ninety meters away. Approximately thirty campers stood in between them and their prize.

Malcolm cursed silently. Percy looked equally distraught.

They were in over their heads at this point. Alicia was missing. Who knew if Claire and Conrad overthrew the Hermes ship, if Sophie managed to make her way to them with the flag, if Annabeth and Zeke weeded out those on the Ares team who'd caught on?

Ah. And there it was: Athenian arrogance. Guilty of sipping the Kanye juice.

But it was only arrogance if they couldn't find a solution. Maybe they still could. Then it was just confidence. Genius, even.

Realistically though…

What were the options? What _ were _ the options? Malcolm couldn't find any winning outcomes.

"Maybe if Tyson were here we could, but I can't see how we can do this without backup," Malcolm said.

Percy's head moved up sharply. "I have a plan," he said to him quietly.

"What do I need to do?"

"Nothing," said Percy. "We're calling in the cavalry."

Malcolm didn't understand what he meant. It was literally just them. The eight of them were operating as the barest skeleton crews, the pegasi were searching for Alicia, and the hippocampi were protecting the ship. What tricks did they have up their sleeves?

Percy gave Blackjack all their ambrosia bars and Riptide, and directed him to drop all that stuff into the creek before aiding the other pegasi or Annabeth. Malcolm's eyes bulged, but he reined in his gut _ Percy-what-the-hell? _ reaction. Malcolm trusted him. Percy was … creative … with his ideas. That some campers didn't see his smarts was a dismal failure of their evaluation skills.

Soaring as low as he could, Blackjack swooped to dodge incoming arrows, and sank their stuff into the water.

"They're over here!" distant voices hollered. The closest five Hermes soldiers were heading their way.

"Ten seconds, Percy," Malcolm warned. "Do you have Riptide yet?"

"Let's stall."

_ Guess that's a no. _"Stalling's not really our decision to make."

But what he _ could _ do was get Percy a sword or two. Malcolm aimed his grappling hook at a camper with a medium-length xíphos that was hopefully a close enough resemblance to Riptide. Quickly disarming the fallen guy, Malcolm threw Percy the sword.

He and Percy held them back, but they were about to be ambushed by over a dozen more. Left and right, the Apollo campers were drawing their bows towards them.

Amidst the blur and the noise of Malcolm and Percy's sparring matches, much too much water rose from the creek and formed into the figures of horses that rushed at the Hermes squad. The equine flood swallowed arrows and felled the soldiers without even a clang of a sword.

_ Wow, dude. Who knew protein bars could—? _

From behind the rush of water appeared slender raven-haired woman, clad with a loose floral dress. It was a strange sight in the middle of a battlefield, especially considering her generously dipped neckline—hardly an appropriate thought given the current circumstances, but really, only a blind person would've missed it. She looked curiously at the flag in her hand brought to her by one of the water-horses.

The troops had diminished to a mere seven.

"Hand over the flag," a chiseled camper Malcolm knew as Scott demanded.

"No," said the woman.

"Well, I don't take no for an answer," Scott shot back. He raised his sword and charged.

"Learn to," she seethed. Another water-horse struck a blow to his head, promptly knocking him out cold before her feet. She rolled her eyes, muttering none too softly, "Rapey asswipe."

The corners of Malcolm's lips ticked up. _ Just who are you? _

Together, Malcolm, Percy, and the woman crushed their remaining opponents and cooped them up with a grappling hook and ropes of water.

Percy turned towards their saviour. "Thanks, Princess."

"Anything for my little brother," she said.

_ "Younger _ brother," said Percy before he attended to their new prisoners.

Malcolm knew a fair bit of Percy's family tree. The woman was obviously a daughter of Poseidon, and if she really were a princess, her mother must've been Amphitrite. She couldn't have been Kymopoleia, who he knew had been disowned by her royal parents. That left a single option.

"You're Rhode?" he asked, finally fixing his eyes on the woman. "Or Lady Rhode?" he corrected.

Maybe it was the way she carried herself, maybe it was her dress, maybe both, but this lady did look regal. And dammit, she was gorgeous. (Hey, he might not have dated often, but he wasn't _blind._) Her hair looked almost blue in the sunlight, all shiny and thick, and as the wind swept locks of her tresses over her shoulder, Malcolm caught a hint of black ink on her tanned skin.

Having to shift his gaze up to meet hers, Malcolm averted his eyes at breakneck speed, feeling like the world's biggest dirtbag. (It was her shoulder he was looking at, okay? Her _ shoulder._) When he looked back, her eyes were still on him, holding his gaze challengingly.

"That's Your Highness to you," she said haughtily.

_ Aaaand she just had to ruin it. _Malcolm wanted to roll his eyes. He opted instead to say, "Sorry, Your Highness." And just maybe he couldn't quite hide his annoyance. Still, he gave her a small bow. He knew better than to provoke the gods, especially those who were ridiculously touchy about their titles.

"People usually kneel before me," she responded, carrying the smuggest of expressions.

_ Seriously? That's how you're gonna be? _

Rhode's eyes flashed. Malcolm figured it'd be better to acquiesce than become the victim of a goddess's ire. As he dropped a knee, he heard Percy confusingly say, "Dude, what are you doing?"

The princess's stony expression cracked and morphed into one of mirth as she snickered. "I wasn't really serious. That actually worked?"

_Oh that little_…. Malcolm huffed as he stood. "Okay, if Ms. Hoity-Toity's had enough fun, we have work to do."

Rhode's eyebrows popped up an inch, but she changed her entire demeanor when Percy introduced him as "Malcolm Pace, Annabeth's brother" and recapped her on the game plan.

The children of Poseidon floated their captured opponents to a makeshift jail by the creek and Malcolm attempted to busy himself with keeping on the lookout for the pegasi who'd bring them to his sister. It was pointless, of course, so he simply third-wheeled, observing the siblings.

Although Percy had grown less boyish and more handsome over the past several years (_hello_, jawline), Rhode still seemed relatively more mature-looking. The only similar features they shared were black hair, green eyes, and a general sense of good looks that might suggest they were siblings.

But her hair was bluer, her face rounder, her tan deeper, her eyes more blue? Or more green? Were they brighter? Were they darker? Malcolm couldn't tell. They somehow… changed. But though the siblings' looks wouldn't exactly prove their relation, their interactions certainly did.

"Geez," Percy said. "You sounded like Triton back there."

"You take that back, Percy," Rhode said.

Percy seemed to be holding back a grin. "Hey," he said with his hands up in surrender, "I didn't say it."

"Well, that was the intention. I'm offended, by the way, that you think I would need an offering to help you."

"It was just to get your attention."

"Well, I don't want it." She tossed him the ambrosia bars that Blackjack had dropped in the creek.

"What if I replace it with muffins?" Percy offered.

"_That _ I will accept."

"Yeah, we both know you're trash at baking."

The goddess responded with a light shove and a chuckle.

Malcolm knew Percy and his godly family were friendly, but he wouldn't have guessed that he and his immortal half-sister were close enough to tease each other like best friends. His other one, after all, had tried to kill him.

"You know, I've been waiting for a call from you," Rhode said. "When you asked for my help, I first thought it had to do with you finally planning to pop the question."

_ Whoa. _"You're going to propose to Annabeth?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm not answering that," Percy said.

"Which probably means you _ are _ going to," Malcolm reasoned. "I don't know if you know this, but there's a massive bet going on at camp."

From what he'd heard, the odds were around 50-50 on who would propose and a majority of bettors gambled on it happening within the next year.

But if Malcolm were to do some simple calculations, perhaps employ the binomial and geometric distributions… say, a sample size of thirty recent interactions, with a probability of—what was it?—0.65 that Annabeth took the lead…

But binomial probability and geometric probability were only relevant when considering independent events. That assumption didn't exactly hold in this case. Malcolm threw away the thought experiment.

As though Percy could see him attempting calculations, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to help you win any bets."

"Relax," said Malcolm. "I don't make bets on your relationship."

Besides, it would be unethical and unwise to bet with the insider information Malcolm had access to. According to Annabeth, the campers had it all wrong.

They continued walking in silence, but Percy's curiosity seemed to outweigh his desire for privacy. "If you had to?" the son of Poseidon asked.

If he had to? Malcolm had always thought Percy and Annabeth would end up together, married with kids and all, complete with pets (Mrs. O'Leary already counted, right?) and a white picket fence (or whatever Annabeth thought was more chic in landscape architecture these days). It seemed like something they were bound to do, given that they were them. But a conversation with Annabeth a few months back made Malcolm doubt whether they'd tick every single one of those boxes.

What binomial and geometric distributions also didn't account for was the fact that this was a much, much bigger event. A proposal wouldn't be equivalent to everyday interactions. In the first place, one of them would have to be willing to take the initiative.

"It's not something we're going to do," Annabeth had told him. Malcolm wasn't sure Percy at least wasn't going to ask—to which an irritated Annabeth had insisted, _ "Of course, _ I'm sure."

Malcolm totally didn't get it. Were they waiting on each other? Was this too big a step for Percy at this time? Was he just trying to be some modern feminist and give Annabeth the reins? Was Annabeth hoping instead that he would take the lead? Malcolm didn't know. This was too much drama for him. If even _ their _ love life was that complicated, he couldn't imagine what other people were like.

So, if he were being honest, he didn't know if— Malcolm paused to choose his words carefully. "Percy, have you talked to Annabeth about this?"

"Of course."

_ Oh. _"And?"

"And we're on the same page?" Percy said, like there was only a single, obvious answer.

"Are you sure?"

Percy shot him an offended look. "Bro, what are you implying?"

"Look," said Malcolm. "Annabeth and I talked about it just a while back. She said it wasn't something you two were gonna do."

Percy laughed at that.

"I'm serious," said Malcolm.

"I know."

"Well, is that true, Percy?" Rhode asked. "You're not going to propose?"

"Drop it," Percy said.

Rhode didn't drop it. "You've told me you wanted to marry her someday," she said. "And you're practically married already. I've been told you live together in the Poseidon cabin and you literally have her name inked near your heart. You can't get any more committed than that, so why don't you just ask?"

"It's not that I wouldn't want to," he said.

"You think _ Annabeth _ doesn't want you to?" Malcolm asked. So maybe his first suspicions were wrong. But had that just been Annabeth's tactic to stop the questioning?

Percy paused for a moment. "I was going to once," he said. "But she didn't let me."

A wave of shock came over Malcolm. But was it actually that shocking? This was Annabeth.

Rhode touched Percy's arm. "Oh, Percy. I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

"Don't be," Percy told her. "Really. We're good."

That seemed true. Still… Malcolm wondered. He wasn't one to pry, but maybe if he could help his sister, who seemed visibly displeased by the current state of affairs… maybe it was worth getting involved.

"Did she tell you why? If you don't mind me asking."

What _ had _ been the problem? Timing? Hera? A general distaste for marriage on Annabeth's part? Something else?

"It's just… you know how stubborn she can be," Percy said, but he seemed content. "It's fine. There's nothing to worry about, okay? We're on the same page, we're good, and that's all you need to know. Now can we please focus on our plan? We're in the middle of a child hostage situation right now, and if my ears are working, the pegasi are about to arrive."

Malcolm stashed the matter as a topic to be revisited at some point.

Soon enough, Blackjack, Guido, and Porkpie flew the trio to a clearing south of the creek and took off yet again to help Malcolm's siblings.

Hermes flag in hand, the plan here wasn't to infiltrate the new base. A trade was a trade, as ridiculous and unfair as it was. Alicia was obviously worth way more than a flag. That the Ares team gave them such a shit offer on their part was mind-boggling.

"We're not here to fight," Malcolm reminded Percy and Rhode. "We're getting Alicia out. But this could be a trap, so let's just be ca—"

Rhode strolled over to a pair of soldiers—Laurel, a daughter of Nike, and Mark, a son of Ares—and cheerfully greeted their astonished faces. "Hi! Excuse me, I'm new here," she said. "Can you tell me where I can find an abducted child?"

Laurel took a moment to recover from her shock, ultimately giving not a single hoot as to who Rhode was. "The flag," she demanded.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Have your stupid flag," he said, throwing it to them. "Give us Alicia."

"Put down your weapons first," said Mark.

"When you lead us to Alicia," Malcolm said. "We've already given you the flag."

"We won't hurt either of you," Percy said.

Laurel nodded at Mark. And the two of them took off running.

A jet of water burst out of a petrified seashell in Rhode's hand, and she willed the water to slip their opponents' weapons from their grips—but Laurel and Mark escaped nonetheless. Malcolm and Percy came to Rhode's aid as more soldiers attacked. Springs of saltwater shot out of the ground to restrain or shoo away the approaching soldiers.

"What was that?" Malcolm rounded on the goddess.

"They're were being dishonest," she said.

"You jeopardized the mission. I'm trying to get my sister out of here."

"As am I," she retorted. "But you're doing it _ so _ slowly, so I'm helping."

"In the short term, sure. Now, they'll just end up scattered everywhere and it's going to be _infinitely _more difficult to track them all down later," he hissed to her.

_Cabrini-Green all over again._

"Malcolm, over there!" Percy exclaimed.

For now, Malcolm set aside his irritation as he caught sight of a blonde girl with the messiest ponytail he had ever seen. Alicia put on a brave face but was clearly a bit shaken. Like she needed more to deal with than losing her dad to a drunk driver's fuck up. Did they have no conscience isolating a child from her siblings?

"Hey, Allie. Are you okay?" he asked, crouching to her level and scanning for cuts and bruises.

She nodded. She didn't seem physically hurt, but her gray eyes were watery. She barely looked at him. "I'm sorry I got caught," she said.

Malcolm tried for a gentle voice. "Hey. No. Don't worry about that. You did great, Alicia. They just didn't play fair. Stay close to Percy or me, okay?"

"Who is that?" she asked warily.

Malcolm followed Alicia's struck gaze and saw the Atlantian princess at the end of it, decking yet another of their opponents. "That would be Rhode. Don't worry. She's on our team. Now we're getting out of here and we'll win this thing. Ready?" He offered Alicia a smile and a fist bump, which his sister hesitantly returned. "Come on." Malcolm gave her the extra knife strapped to his leg.

Together, he and Alicia, and Percy and Rhode, pummelled the remaining players until not a single remaining soul there stood.

They made their way to the beach and just about whooped upon seeing the small ship resting on Long Island Sound that proudly hoisted three flags. Rhode stayed by the beach to recruit sea friends as spies and allies, and in the tranquil underwater air bubble Percy made for the Athenians, Malcolm could finally redo his sister's hair.

With their Amber Alert cancelled, three flags captured, and dozens of enemies defeated, it seemed the tides were turning in their favor.


	2. Malcolm wins and loses (Part 1)

**Chapter 2: In which Malcolm wins and loses (Part 1/3)**

"Honey, I'm home," Percy called out after they rose to the surface. He had his wide jokey grin on.

Climbing aboard the helm, the trio were met with Annabeth on watch.

"Hey, you." Annabeth welcomed Percy with a quick kiss and crouched down to her little sister. "Are you okay?" she asked Alicia, who replied in the affirmative. "Are you hungry? Sophie's got those protein bars you like." Annabeth directed Alicia starboard to the blonde teenager keeping an eye on nine bound and unconscious campers.

All observed the adorable Alicia—adorned with baby fat and a custom-fit cuirass—plop herself criss-cross applesauce by a doting yet quiet fifteen-year-old Sophie. But Malcolm was more interested in the responses of the two by his side.

They weren't even that subtle. Annabeth shared a glowing look with Percy, who returned a smile and the _ barest _ hint of a nod—what Malcolm had reasoned was their when-we-have-kids exchange.

Malcolm had caught those exchanges over the past several years, especially around Percy's little sister Estelle, but they seemed to be coming up more so now. That perhaps had to do with the fact that Alicia looked like a mini-Annabeth. So, whether Percy and Annabeth ended up married or not, it seemed pretty clear they wanted kids.

_ Whatever. Their business. _

"Noticed the flag. Good job," Malcolm said.

"We even managed to drive out the potential leakers," Annabeth said, returning Malcolm's offered high five.

"Of course you did," Percy said, casually throwing an arm around Annabeth's shoulders. "You know I don't doubt you." He pressed his lips to her temple in the way he often did and with a wink proceeded to command the ship.

"That man needs to stop feeding my ego," Annabeth muttered.

This was the gold standard, Malcolm thought. _ Ladies, gents, everyone… pick a partner who believes in you like Percy Jackson can. _

Leaving Annabeth to ogle her man in peace, Malcolm familiarized himself with his surroundings as he caught up with the team. Percy had relieved Claire from sailing duties, and the duo promptly shipped off the last prisoners on a tugboat led by hippocampi. Sophie and Alicia (and eventually a focused Annabeth) were then free to begin brainstorming some offensive plays over ambrosia protein bars. And portside by the cannons, two blonds were taking turns hissing and cussing as they stung each other's wounds with nectar. Zeke's cheek cuts would heal quickly, but the ugly gash in Conrad's right (and favored) arm gave Malcolm a case of the heebie-jeebies. For now at least, the Athenians could take a breather to recharge, given that the ship and its surroundings were Percy-fied.

But shortly after Claire joined Malcolm's efforts to fix up their brothers, Malcolm's hand went to the xíphos at his side as a flurry of blues and oranges hurled over to Annabeth.

"Annabeth! It's so good to see you again!" Rhode said, greeting Annabeth with cheek kisses and a warm embrace. "How is everything?"

Following some momentary fluster, Annabeth quickly regained her composure and struck a relatively hushful conversation with the princess.

Percy made introductions to all, and as Rhode gushed to the Athenians about their sister's architectural prowess and the beauty of the newly renovated Atlantian palace, Malcolm decided that he could definitely tolerate the goddess.

"I hate to bring this up, but is Rhode even allowed to play capture the flag?" Claire asked, bandaging her twin's arm. "I mean, you're a goddess. That doesn't sound fair."

"Don't tell me you interrupted one of my few mornings off to have me join a game I can't actually play," said Rhode to her brother.

"I'm pretty sure sea nymphs are allowed," Percy said. "If a Cyclops and the Hunters can join, why not one of the Haliai?"

"Because Rhode is clearly far more powerful," Annabeth said.

"Oh, let her have fun. We'd love your help, Rhode," Conrad gritted out, mid-arm stretch.

"I also don't think I've done anything _ Percy _ couldn't do," Rhode said.

"Although I could only do that stuff maybe just on a really good day…" Percy mused.

"Sure, on a good day and perhaps without as much style, but, beautiful horses or mangled donkeys, the outcome is all the same," Rhode said, snickering to a grunting Percy. But she ultimately agreed she wouldn't go beyond her brother's level.

Given Rhode's confirmation that a warning system of marine and equine beings was in place, the team continued their break, making sure to fuel up and apply sunscreen. It was probably better to let Ares and Hermes fight it out and dive back in later, once the pegasi and sea friends gave word as to the whereabouts of the flag. And Conrad wasn't in good shape anyway.

Better than bum around, Malcolm hesitantly but politely heeded Annabeth's instructions to help set up their new friend with comms and take stock of weaponry, so he and the princess explored the lower deck. In a little tool room of their stash of hijacked weapons, communications gear, and armor, he quickly found the extra earpieces.

"Ooh, I feel like I'm in a spy film," Rhode said as he cautiously helped fit one of the devices over her ear, trying not to touch her.

He almost smiled at the comment. "It does make you feel like that, doesn't it? Annabeth's going to program the pieces to our names. It's activated by brainwaves, so all you have to do is think the name of the person you want to reach and then talk. Okay, is that comfortable?"

Rhode nodded.

"There's also probably some armor here that fits you," he said, looking around.

"Oh, I'm alright, thank you," Rhode said, straightening her dress.

Malcolm fixed his own earpiece to himself. "Are you gonna keep wearing _ that?" _ he asked.

"Funny you say that. You seemed to like what I'm wearing," Rhode said, entirely too satisfied for his liking. She even threw him a wink as she half-posed with her arms akimbo. "I think it's quite nice, too."

Rhode took a moment to admire her outfit and Malcolm made the mistake of following her gaze as it traveled downwards, pleasing her and his lizard brain. He ignored both.

"Your attire isn't the least bit appropriate," he said.

Rhode's eyes suddenly narrowed into slits. "Are you policing my clothing?" she said.

"I don't _ care _ what you normally wear. I'm just saying your dress is impractical for fighting," Malcolm told her.

"And I saved your ass in this dress," Rhode said. "So maybe you need to step it up instead of bitching about what I'm wearing." But her outward annoyance dissipated as quickly as it had come. "You're welcome, by the way." Rhode flashed another smile.

Malcolm remembered then that even the ancient Romans, pompous as they'd been, hadn't encountered people so infuriatingly arrogant before they'd stepped foot on Rhodós. Maybe that trait applied, too, to the island's patron goddess.

Had irrationality also been a Rhodian attribute?

She thought it was a good idea to fight in a dress. Without armor. And with her hair untied. Like, _What?_ _What are you thinking? This isn't a gods-damn fashion show_.

"What _ is _ it with you?" said Rhode. Her eyes so quickly formed a storm.

"With _ me?_" he said. "Oh, I'm not the one who could've messed up our play because I was so okay with throwing our plan out the window without a second thought."

"But I _ didn't _ mess anything up!" Rhode said. "I disarmed two of our opponents and took down five faster than you could lift a finger, thank you very much. We made it out _ fine _ and we made it out _ quick_."

"But why even take that risk?"

Rhode stepped into his space with an icy stare—but he wouldn't be provoked. "What's the matter with a little risk?" she said. "You're not a coward, are you?"

"People often mistake bravery with stupidity," Malcolm responded.

"Don't you call me stupid," she hissed in his face. "I had that under control. And risk-takers win. It's not stupid of us to face the whole of Camp Half-Blood. What would that make you? A hypocrite?"

"Ever heard of calculated risk?"

"I don't have to be a mathematical genius to know you've been gambling," she said.

This close, Malcolm could see that Rhode's eyes changed colors from sea green to teal, reminding him of the way that waves shimmered as they reflected light. Greed glinted out from some sort of deep green or blue.

"But maybe," Rhode said, "maybe the gamble's worth it for that chance to reap such glorious rewards."

If Rhode agreed, maybe this entire plan _ had _ been a terrible idea.

Or was she just goading him? To what end? To get him to admit she'd helped? To get him to—?

Movement caught his peripheral vision. She crossed her arms. And with a rise of her chest—maybe a little too noticeable to be unintentional—came a surge within his, as he wondered _ how fucking serious _ she was if she truly were attempting to toy with him.

But as Rhode grew yet nearer, her sea eyes held Malcolm's captive. He hadn't finished the puzzle. Really, what color _were_ they? _What… color…?_

A cleared throat snapped Malcolm out of daze. _ Stupid ADHD. _ (Yeah, that was it.) Malcolm immediately distanced himself from the sea goddess and turned to face his savior.

By the doorway stood Percy, his eyes darting back and forth between his sister and Malcolm as though watching a ping-pong match. The son of Poseidon's brows shot up.

"We were just, um…" Malcolm tried to explain. _ Yelling at each other? Crap. _

"Looking at maps?" Percy asked. His innocent tone was betrayed by a conspicuous, teasing smile.

Malcolm just stared and offered no response. Beside him, Rhode rolled her eyes but ultimately strode off in triumph to the upper deck.

"Sorry, I guess," Percy told him, looking genuinely regretful.

"No. That's not—" Malcolm sputtered, feeling even more red in the face.

"Geez," Percy mumbled. "You two met less than an hour ago and within three minutes of alone time—"

"We were _ not_— I didn't even do anything. It was her—"

"Uh-huh." Percy took stock of the tools, weighing a sword, observing a spear, peeking under a shield….

"This _ really _ isn't the same thing," Malcolm said. _ I was just… trying to figure out what color her eyes were. _

Like that sounded any better.

"Okay," Percy said. "I just came in to check on our smoke grenades. Alicia wants to use them."

Still a tomato hue for no good reason why, Malcolm gave him an earpiece and helped him find the weapons. When Percy failed to take the air of awkwardness with him up the stairs, Malcolm was left to mindlessly busy himself with organizing the scraps.

What was it about Rhode that annoyed him? Her carelessness? (Sure.) Her pride? (Did she say or do anything he didn't believe to be true about her or himself, though? How would this compare to Athenian arrogance?) Did his cortisol levels rise as a result of some purely biological-level attraction? (Possibly.) Or was it annoying that she _ knew _ she was attractive? (No, of course not.)

Static buzzed by his right ear. "Testing, testing. Team meeting, Mal," came Claire's voice.

"Yeah, I'm coming up."

Malcolm hoped to the gods his cheeks weren't still as heated as they felt.

Under the glare of the sun, Percy and Rhode lounged carelessly on the side of the ship, and the Athenians scattered nearby around snacks on the floor, with Annabeth distributing sunscreen.

"Any updates? Do we wanna get back out there yet?" Malcolm asked.

"We have everyone on the lookout," Percy said. "Pegasi, hippocampi, water spirits, fish…. And Rhode and I are here. We can probably still chill for now and let Hermes and Ares fight each other until we get some news."

"They could join forces if we let them stew for too long, couldn't they?" Sophie asked.

"I think that would be overestimating them," said Annabeth. "But we should figure out how we might want to address that. Alicia suggested we blitzkrieg them with smoke grenades before going in."

"Just not where the flag is maybe. They might move it then," Malcolm said.

"Plus, it'd be better if they think we're heading someplace else," Conrad added.

"Yeah. So let's just make sure we stick to the plan or operate within reasonable deviations from it," Malcolm said.

"We should also make sure we're not being uptight," Rhode said flatly as she picked at the chipping polish on her nails. "That'd simply kill all the fun, making this a worthless quest."

"It's also important," Malcolm said, "to be wary of such a haughty att—"

"Oh, you think I'm a hottie?" Rhode said, head cocked. She smirked right at Malcolm.

"I said _ haughty _ and you know it," Malcolm said forcefully.

Claire nudged Conrad's good arm. "Are you getting a sense of déjà vu?"

"Dear gods. This doesn't need to happen again," Conrad said. "We know how this plays out. This is stage one."

"And if history's any indication, next is to just go get a room and hash it out," Claire said, receiving in chuckles and snorts from Malcolm's other siblings.

"Yeah," Sophie agreed. "Just not Cabin Three, though, because Percy and Annabeth have already booked it."

Half the couple responded with an eye roll. The other half pretended no comments were ever made.

"Nah, they go in the lake to do that," said Zeke.

"Please. They do it everywhere," Conrad added.

"Do what?" Alicia asked. Everyone seemed to forget that there was a precocious six-year-old in their company. "Is this about the strawberries?" she asked suspiciously.

_ Oh no. _ Poor Alicia was probably even more confused now.

"Strawberries?" Rhode asked.

"Ya," said Alicia. "I heard Mal talking to Annabeth about catching her and Percy eating strawberries. But I don't know. It seemed like they were lying about it."

"I'm sorry, what did you say? What about strawberries?" Percy said.

_ Stop. Just stop. _

"They were talking one time," said Alicia, "and I remember I heard Mal complain that he would have to hear you and Annabeth having strawberries again."

That had been just over a month ago, when Annabeth and Percy moved back from New Rome. Malcolm told his sister something along the lines of: _ Get some. Get all you want. But, for the love of the gods, when I have to get to you when someone's looking for you, I just don't want to hear you doing it. Again. _

"Huh? How can he hear us having s-strawberries?" Percy just about squeaked out. Embarrassment turned into amusement. "Strawberries?"

_ Hey. Alicia had just walked in. It was the first thing that came to mind. _Outwardly, all Malcolm could do was sigh, try not to meet his little sister's eyes, and figure out how to worm his way out of this topic.

"I don't know!" Alicia exclaimed. "And I asked them what was so bad about strawberries, but Annabeth said they _ weren't _ bad. She said she likes strawberries."

Everyone stared at Annabeth.

"Wow," said Zeke.

Even Percy questioned her with look and a restrained laugh.

Malcolm wished he could say that Annabeth's past attempt at making him uncomfortable would come back to bite her now, but she looked quite poised.

"What?" she said. "Did you want me to lie?"

"I thought they're healthy," said Alicia, "but Mal said to be careful because there could be 'negative externalities,' which I think means something like 'unintended consequences'. So I did some research about strawberries. I found out that they're mostly healthy, but not as much as other fruits. They're apparently high in sugar, so you should beware of, ähm, tooth decay and sugar crashes." She counted the side effects on her small fingers.

Malcolm couldn't help but smile. She was such a smart cookie. It was cute how she was lecturing everyone about this, even if she didn't fully get the concept of externalities.

"Oh, and Ainsleigh from the Demeter cabin told me all of Camp Half-Blood's strawberries are organic, but I found out that almost all strawberries produced in America are made using pesticides. There's something called fum—ähm—fumi—something with an 'F'."

"Definitely an F involved," Conrad said.

_ Not helping, bro. _

"Fumigants," Conrad then supplied.

_ Still not helping. _

"Fumigants," said Alicia. "And they're _ really _ bad. They're these gases that are put in the soil and they hurt or kill everything they come into contact with. Farmers started to use fumigants after some researchers used the tear gas left over from World War I in experiments. So it's mostly bad for the people growing the strawberries. But also," she said, enrapturing everyone, "if you have too many strawberries, you can get upset intestines... If you know what I mean," she added in a loud, sneaky whisper.

_ Oh, sweet summer child… _

"That's all I know," she said. "But some things still don't make sense." With furrowed brows, Alicia resumed her ambrosia nibbling.

Florian Dietrich must have told his daughter that all babies sprung from their mother's heads. There was no way she wouldn't have otherwise connected the dots. And while Malcolm didn't want it to be him to tell Alicia about the birds and the bees, his siblings had already pushed the duty on him, arguing that it was the responsibility of Cabin Six's head counselor and oldest resident. (It was a good excuse, but it just wasn't fair.)

"Fascinating," said Rhode, jolting him from his thoughts. "Well, in any case, strawberries at least seem more appetizing than cherries."

A loud grunt escaped the throat of the preteen Zeke, while spit threatened to burst out of Sophie's mouth.

"Excuse me, _ what _ are you implying?" Malcolm said.

Rhode crossed her arms. "Oh, I'm not _ implying. _ I'm _ saying _ you'd l—"

"Rhode. Malcolm. Please?" Percy said. "We better not implode just because you two can't keep your hormones in check." He wore an infuriating and seemingly knowing look.

_ Just _ no_, Percy. _There was nothing _ to _ know here. With his eyes, Malcolm sent a "cut it out" to his siblings, who had the wits to look at least partially remorseful.

"We'll have this in the bag within the next several hours," Annabeth told him pre-protest.

_ Right._ She probably couldn't tell off Rhode. That just pissed him off more.

"You can argue all you want later," Percy said. "Preferably not, though. But right now, we're a team. Alright?"

The butting heads grudgingly took heed, and an awkward silence followed before Claire initiated a tepid discussion on predictions as to what their opponents were up to.

Malcolm, meanwhile, tried to ignore Percy and Annabeth's whisperings, and opted instead to join his siblings in a muscle stretch as well as take turns using the aphedrṓn. _(Ah. The wonders of a ship._ How comforting it was to have access to a real, private toilet during capture the flag.)

A good five minutes after Malcolm welcomed a conversation with Sophie, who wanted to update him on her revised study plan for the upcoming academic year, Blackjack arrived on the scene, bearing news of their opponents.

Apparently, the eighty remaining opponents were dispersed throughout the grounds, and the fourth flag to be captured was held south of Zephyros Creek by the old entrance of the labyrinth.

The team of nine decided to let the pegasi storm the strongholds with smoke grenades and to split in three groups. Now to allocate members to teams while distributing experience and injury...

Malcolm mentally slotted the restrictions and possibilities into the obvious buckets.

Percy would protect the ship and the three flags with sea friends. Alicia could join him if she wanted; she would be safest on board.

Meanwhile, at least two groups of the rest would round in on the forces protecting the remaining flag.

Conrad and Claire would, for sure, would comprise a team, maybe with another sibling—someone other than Annabeth and Malcolm. _ Sophie or Alicia then, if the twins needed. _

That left Zeke, Malcolm, Annabeth, and Rhode, which seemed like overkill. So perhaps—

"I could help eliminate the rest of the enemy and divert attention away from those capturing the fourth flag," Rhode suggested. "I don't even have to be near a creek. I have the petrified seashells."

_ Smart. _

In that case, then maybe do PA, CCZ, MS, so Ann—

"Malcolm, will you go with Rhode?" Percy asked.

Malcolm refused to look at the goddess.

"You're the only one who knows how Rhode fights," Percy said. "And with your overall experience, you two can go alone. We won't need any more of us."

And that was how he got trapped.


	3. Malcolm wins and loses (Part 2)

**Chapter 2: In which Malcolm wins and loses (Part 2/3)**

Malcolm's siblings were tactful enough to allow him and Rhode two pegasi.

He opted to remain mum on the ride as Rhode conversed with Porkpie and Guido, but this wasn't productive, and it hadn't taken long before the awkwardness became more unpalatable than any potential argument with Her Annoyingness.

"So, what are you thinking?" asked Malcolm. Sneaking a glance, he saw Rhode staring into the water. Maybe she could end this all quickly. How 'bout a tsunami?

"I'm thinking it's really hot here and I'd like to lounge in the Sound," said Rhode.

Malcolm refrained from groaning aloud or rolling his eyes. "I meant ideas about our attack."

"I'm thinking: We see them, we obliterate them," she said. "Et voilà. Nous avons terminé."

_ "Anything _ more concrete?" Malcolm said, trying not to curse her brother for putting him in this situation. "How's this? You lead, I adapt," he offered. Except maybe it wasn't so much an extension of an olive branch as it was the fact that it'd be easier if he didn't have to explain anything to her. And if he wasn't expecting anything much, he wouldn't be disappointed, right?

Rhode faced him. "You'll let me lead? I didn't think you trusted me," she said.

"I trust Percy," said Malcolm. "And I've heard that if you have ten Rhodians, you have ten ships. One should more than suffice here…. Not that you are a _Rhodian_, because you _are_ _Rhode_, obviously_,_ but…"

As he trailed off, the princess observed him with eyes that matched her father's—with a gaze that could be as cryptic or expressive as they wanted. And right now, Malcolm had no idea what those aqua orbs were saying.

Out of thin air, Rhode conjured an off-colored dose of nectar. "Drink this," she said.

Malcolm stared at her offering. "I'm good, thanks."

"It'll make sure you stay dry and withstand floods," she said.

Malcolm chugged down the taste of pecan pie. Rhode _ also _ offered him a dozen petrified seashells to scatter around. With her flying on Porkpie, just specks in the air now, and Guido taking off to aid the other pegasi, Malcolm was finally alone. On the ground, he kept his head on a swivel, on constant lookout for the enemy. Yet his eyes still couldn't detect any threats.

"Hi. The blue team is coming out of the forest on our left," Rhode told him over comms. "Can you hear me? Is this working?"

"Yeah, yeah. How many of them are there?"

"At least five," Rhode said. "_Oh_. Uh oh. There's another, bigger group near them about fifty meters away. Don't ask me how much that is in feet."

Malcolm nearly stopped in his tracks at the affront. "I'm familiar with the metric system, thanks."

So Hermes had managed to stay somewhat intact. Probably acting as a guard? Maybe scouting?

"Can you draw them out to the clearing?" Rhode asked.

But—but he'd be out in the open. Against at least five of their enemies. With a whole pack to come to their aid.

Ten Rhodians, ten ships.

"Alright," Malcolm said.

Rhode and Porkpie flew presumably behind their enemies. A hammer-and-anvil-type scheme could potentially work, Malcolm reasoned. Just as he flung three seashells on the ground for Rhode to potentially use, three members of the Hermes team headed towards him. Wicked sharp swords swung in his direction.

"Where's the rest of the dork brigade?" asked Ekaterina, a daughter of Demeter.

Malcolm didn't bother to respond. He easily caught her strike and used momentum to twist her blade out of her grip, all the while watching out for the grass and whatever plants surrounded him. Her four teammates were catching up. Swords clanged and swooshed, and soon enough, vines sprouted from the ground, threatening to bind Malcolm's ankles. Malcolm sidestepped and jumped out of their reach. But a pull on his leg brought him to the ground. Cutting the vines, he rolled away and got back up to face his opponents.

"Do you _ really _ think you could take us all alone?" Trevor, a son of Tyche, said, delivering but a near miss to Malcolm's arm.

"I mean, I can try," Malcolm said. _ But who says I'm alone? _

A daughter of Hermes narrowed her eyes. "This is obviously a trap," she said to her teammates.

In Malcolm's ear, he heard the Atlantian Princess. "Can you draw the others out?" Rhode said.

"Then too bad you don't have backup," Malcolm goaded to the opponents. He dodged their swings and retreated a bit. _ Rhode. _"I'm obviously the bait, aren't I? Gotta give you credit, though." Another dodge. Another sidestep. "These vines are impressive."

"Hold on," Rhode told him. "I'm trying to be discrete."

"But if I could give you advice," he said, dodging another blow, "_you should hurry. _"

Almost instantly, saltwater flooded an eight-meter radius around him and encased them all, Malcolm included. Yet, while the water pressure knocked his opponents aside, Malcolm remained standing. The wheezing and coughing dumbfounded demigods were no match for Rhode. Malcolm quickly disarmed them and, at his request, Rhode remotely shipped them off.

"Thank you, Princess."

"You're welcome," Rhode said. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes. The others are coming out now, I think?"

Arrows began flying and Porkpie swooped.

_ Yeah, I don't think so. _Maybe they'd seen her power, maybe they didn't deem Rhode and him a threat.

He briefly wondered if Rhode would be alright, but ultimately trusted that the daughter of Poseidon could handle herself on a pegasus. Let Hermes waste their arrows. As Rhode feigned a retreat, executing a Parthian shot with her own strikes of water, Malcolm busied himself with dropping more petrified seashells on the ground.

Now… how to draw them out from the cover of the forest? Entice them? Force them? Could Rhode make it pour over them? But how much would that do when they were already shielded by trees? They could simply retreat further, too. Whatever the means, he'd have to figure it out quickly. Arrows were bound to aim his direction any second now. And out in the open, Malcolm was a liability.

If only he could offer them something they wanted. But there were no flags he could flaunt. And assuming he could draw the group out, the odds would only stack against Hermes if Malcolm could fight them little by little.

_ Ah! Aha! _

"Rhode, can you fling a couple of them out here?" Malcolm said.

One after the other, two young demigods, chained in ropes of hardened water, were hurled out from the forest into the clearing.

"Happy birthday," said Rhode, gifting him the three-in-one package of honey, shield, and victim.

"Perfect."

Malcolm held off on ending their swordfight until their teammates came out. Apollo's kids aimed more arrows up at Rhode, but that was nothing a trusty grappling hook couldn't fix. The demigods fell in Malcolm's lasso.

"Are you familiar with Gaugamela?" Rhode asked.

"Yeah."

But what of it?

Malcolm surveyed the scene.

The rivers? No, at this point, they'd be at the plains by the Tigris, not the Euphrates. She _ did _ say Gaugamela. And, presumably, they'd follow in the Macedonians' footsteps, seeing as they'd won the battle? So, was it gaining the hill that the Macedonians won from Mazaeus? Well, Rhode and Porkpie already had the high ground. Were they to wait to attack as the Macedonians had? The Hermes team was better prepared, after all, and it wouldn't bode well to storm the rich.

But why make Hermes think they were the _ Persians? _ Aside from the plentiful soldiers, Hermes's side didn't resemble the Persians'; unlike Darius's troops, Hermes was still organized and well-trained. Unless Hermes were to think they themselves were in the Macedonians' position? Why would Rhode then have chosen Gaugamela?

Malcolm realized it then. It didn't matter to Rhode who was who. She gave herself and Malcolm every advantage both the Persians and Macedonians had enjoyed. Indian-trained war elephants? Strength in numbers? Her midair flood would surely do. And the two cavalry units she controlled on either of Malcolm's sides, as coordinated as the Macedonians' and still stronger than Parmenion's wing, could stretch further than Hermes's forces.

As soldiers approached, Malcolm's heart pounded, and he forced himself to breathe and slow down his heartbeat. Rhode was on his side. They could do this.

Malcolm envisioned the play: Left and right, the water would envelop their enemies, who'd failed to break Rhode's encirclement. That would leave him to hold the center unit in place until Rhode could drive a wedge of water into the weakened enemy infantry—the infantry led by a son of Mercury, Bae Hyeong-min.

Of course it was Bae. Excellent choice.

As Rhode's wall of water stretched in both directions, Hermes mirrored Rhode's set-up simultaneously. The blue infantry plowed headlong at Malcolm. Malcolm fought one, two, three attackers. And another and another and yet another. He struck and retreated, charged and feinted, and— And, oh, whom was Malcolm kidding? What the hell was a one-man infantry? Surely _ he _ was the one tweaking.

Gaugamela had worked because Darius had fled in terror. But Bae wasn't going to run like Darius. He had the skill and confidence. He would recognize all their tactics. Perhaps he had the brains to have outsmarted the greatest of the Argead kings. He'd anticipate their moves and figure out a way to—

It took all of Malcolm to stop catastrophizing. But as another Roman soldier joined the two currently occupying Malcolm, panic began to settle in. Someone from behind struck with a blow. Pain seared on his left side. Two others approached. His grappling hook was gone. Bae was closing in. And Malcolm managed a plea for help.

In a matter of seconds, a force of water created a barrier between him and the soldiers, throwing back his attackers.

"Thanks," he wheezed as he collected himself. "Bae. Dude in charge. Roman. He needs to go."

"Who?" he heard in his left ear.

Malcolm swore in his head. Did it even _ matter _ who? Surely, Rhode could attack them _ all? _

"The guy on—"

"Throw a shell at him," Rhode said.

Fishing for one of the remaining shells at his disposal, Malcolm pitched a shot at Bae's chest as Rhode summoned the sea, shooting gallons of water in the son of Mercury's direction. Dragged off his horse and made to trip over aqua ropes that encircled him, bye bye went Bae. Malcolm even took the time to watch and chuckle.

So… Darius didn't flee, but the Achaemenid Empire would still fall.

_ Sorry, man. _

With increasingly weary swings, Malcolm fought off the remaining soldiers who broke through Rhode's cavalry, eventually resorting to use his grappling hook like a lasso to trip and tackle the enemy. One by one, Rhode kept them down and rounded them up before hauling them out of the game.

Malcolm inhaled into his searing lungs. He'd need at least a minute to recover. Porkpie's hooves thudded on the grass beside him, and the pegasus kneeled to help Rhode off before galloping into the air.

"Porkpie left to help Percy," she said, gesturing her head towards Long Island Sound, where, above the ship, the pegasi fought the drones that attempted to snatch the flags from the air. Nothing to worry about. If Percy could obliterate the Williamsburg, he could totally deal with this. "So it looks like I'll be on the ground now," Rhode said.

Malcolm heaved and puffed again until he could manage proper breathing. "Just don't ruin your dress, Princess," he muttered.

"Okay, what now?" she said.

"Now we pick more fights."

* * *

**PART 3 OF CHAPTER 2 WILL COME.**

_The rest of Chapter 2 (another 4.8k words) will be heading your way this month. Yes, in April. I PROMISE. I'm so sorry that this update was extremely delayed. Aside from super amazing and super sucky things that have consumed my time, it's been extremely difficult for me to write capture the flag the way I wanted to. So, dammit, I hope someone enjoys reading this, lol._


	4. Malcolm wins and loses (Part 3)

**Chapter 2: In which Malcolm wins and loses (Part 3/3)**

As he and Rhode headed west into the forest, Malcolm ignored as best as he could the fact that one of four hands was busy lifting the train of a dress and that two of four eyes (and momentary glances from the other pair) were occupied to make sure that sharp twigs weren't stepped on with sandals. But Rhode duly provided him with nectar—served in a glass of ice, no less—and Malcolm instantly felt better.

"Gaugamela," he said quietly. "Good one." He gave her a nod.

"Alexandrós would not shut up about it," Rhode said under her breath.

At the sight of a couple soldiers, Malcolm forced himself to rein in thoughts that she'd probably known the guy personally.

Sneaking into the shadows of denser thickets, he and Rhode spotted two nearby reds, squabbled at by three more reds. Malcolm and Rhode stayed put. Two screeches later, the Ares team parted ways.

Sans leader, sans base, how many different gangs had Ares split into now? Must've been roaming like pests all over the forest. Ugh, what a pain it would be to track them all down, no thanks to the goddess at his side.

But a rustling of leaves followed, accompanied by swooshing and oofs, as a blue-helmed squad caught up to the smaller Ares bunch.

Luck must've been on Malcolm's side.

Except was it really luck? True, Rhode might have made it more difficult to hunt down the gangs, but his job was easier in this case, wasn't it? The goal here, after all, was to drive them _all_ out—Hermes _and_ Ares—not to keep peace or save any lives.

Successful in their mission, the Hermes soldiers headed deeper into the forest, towards the larger of the Ares crews.

_Neat._ Hopefully, Hermes's numbers would dwindle, too.

"I guess you deserve credit for how easy we have this," Malcolm said to Rhode. "I'll still say for the sake of Alicia's safety that it wasn't a risk that needed to be taken, but splitting up the enemy definitely helped." _That is, since the remaining Ares soldiers weren't collectively intelligent enough to __optimize decision-making. _

Rhode seemed surprised at his admission.

Malcolm could've rolled his eyes. "My ego isn't that big," he said. Ego tended to lead to stupid decision-making, after all. "And I'll appreciate any factor that'll wrap up this game ASAP. This has to end soon. I have work to get to."

"That's a joke, right?" she said.

"Well, New Athens isn't going to build itself, and I'm the city planner, so I have a constantly growing pile of things on my plate."

Rhode turned towards him. "So _you're_ the one running the ship. My father's mentioned the developments."

"He's been helping the funding a lot as a patron god," Malcolm said. "You can tell him thanks from me."

Her gaze fixed on his. Bluer than grass, greener than the sky, dancing between teal and emerald… Malcolm still couldn't pinpoint the color.

"I mean, I would," Malcolm said, "but he's obviously super busy, and I'm not just going to bother him..."

"I'll tell him," Rhode said.

The two continued to stroll at Rhode's pace in a covert pursuit of the enemy. But between the bright blues and oranges on Rhode's dress and whatever flowery shampoo or soap he detected off her, there was no way they'd manage to remain hidden for long. Now, _this_ is why she should've changed.

_Let it go. _

The clamoring soldiers were in view again, still heading north. "Shall we ambush them?" Rhode whispered.

Malcolm regripped his sword into a comfortable position. Rhode used a clip to get hair out of her face.

_You can _tie_ it. _

"You ready?" he asked.

"You go left, I go right," she said.

Before Malcolm and Rhode could even flank the blue team, the enemies had spotted her. Rhode conjured a wall of water, turning the flood into rows of spikes. The hoplites instantly switched their swords for spears.

_Damn Hephaestus gear. _

But, held in the middle, the opponents' twelve-foot spears were effectively six feet long. Rhode's, however, remained twelve, and they squiggled between the ranks, jabbing at the opponents in quick stabs and effectively splitting the phalanx. Yet, even with Malcolm's efforts to cave them in from the other side, her strikes couldn't hold back all the soldiers.

Catching Rhode's wide eyes and retreating steps, Malcolm threw two petrified seashells to his left. A force of water that vaguely resembled something equestrian burst forth, trampling their opponents in a stampede. And with a deep breath, the sea nymph was poised once more.

"It's more difficult when I have to hold myself back," she said to Malcolm after they disarmed the remaining enemy and threw them into a new jail.

Malcolm wondered if the worst were over. In the next three minutes, he and Rhode ambled northward, seeing nothing but flora. Another minute passed and Rhode briefly paused to reposition her hair clip before resuming her stroll. Her eyes flitted down, left, right, and center—never _behind_ for some reason, unless she counted on Malcolm to do that—all as she brushed her fingers through her long, black hair.

Two hands down, then.

Malcolm shut his eyes. _Let it go. _

"Does capture the flag typically get this anticlimactic?" Rhode asked.

The son of Athena couldn't help but snicker. "Sometimes."

A full four minutes passed (Malcolm counted three more hair adjustments). Distracted by Rhode's hair and the heat, and wishing for more wind, Malcolm's mind wandered. In his faraway state, his brain got to processing his current, nearly surreal reality: that he was in New York again, permanently at that, and was now sauntering through the woods with a goddess in order to help his siblings (and Percy) overthrow the camp. Who'd'a thought?

He found himself enraptured by how light could reflect off seemingly the blackest black instead of being absorbed by it. Oh, but then perhaps that _wouldn't_ be the blackest black. Or was it loads of conditioner that did the trick?

Thoughts then turned to eco-friendly ingredients. What also was the optimal way for New Athens to minimize plastic waste from the production and use of daily hygiene products? A recycling facility ought to be set up in the city, naturally. Maybe someone would also create a supermarket with product refills? But would that be more expensive for the company?

That wasn't on him to deal with, however. And, of course, he'd have to focus on building the foundational base of the city before truly tackling specific environmental policies. What would be the results of the New Athenian effort to crowdsource the city constitution? Now that the round 1 surveys had been administered and the focus groups were wrapping up discussions—

Malcolm nudged Rhode's arm and gestured to their left, from where a group of five gabby Hermes soldiers was approaching. His warning was pointless, however. Mariana Torres, a daughter of Aphrodite, spotted him and Rhode almost instantly.

"Hey, Malcolm," another of them called out. Malcolm recognized him as one of Leo's brothers, Suleiman Azikiwe.

"Yo."

"Hello there," Rhode said, shooting her with her friendly smile. An almost subtle hair flip accompanied the greeting as she faced them.

A second of indecision provided Malcolm plenty of opportunity to steal a sword from Mariana and gave him time to prepare for a brawl from the rest.

Meanwhile, Aphro dude (Malcolm couldn't for the life of him remember what his name was) practically glitched. "Uh, who in Hades are you?" he said.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rhode coquetted.

"Careful. That's probably some trick," Mariana reasoned—though her brother Mark Antony Flores didn't seem to mind.

"_Excuse_ me. I'm very much _real_," Rhode said.

Aphro dude could barely believe his eyes. He stared at the goddess for an unhealthy amount of time, his gaze lingering at her chest in a way that irked Malcolm and embarrassed him for his own previous gaffe.

With no active defense anymore, Mariana was no match for Malcolm, who disarmed her easily. From his five o'clock, a sluggish Hypnos kid, whom Malcolm had almost missed, summoned the last of his energy to cast a sleeping spell. Malcolm shot out of the way and the curse hit Mariana instead.

Two down, three to go.

Suleiman paid no heed to the action. "Well, damn," he said. "And I've _seen_ Venus. No offense to your mom, Mark Antony."

_Get a grip, people_.

"Mark Antony?" Rhode said. "I haven't heard that name in a while. Nice name."

"Ahaha, thanks," beamed the teenager.

Malcolm concentrated on exploiting those moments of enemy hesitation that Rhode so effectively provided. Managing to round up the opps surrounding him to one side, he matched the three strike by strike, even knocking Suleiman to the ground.

"Oh, okay, we're really fighting, huh?" Suleiman said.

_No shit._

The brawniest of all parties by far, Aphro dude was difficult to manage. The other two, meanwhile, lacked experience; they had never faced war and probably hadn't encountered many monsters. But Malcolm knew Suleiman could pack a mean strike and even baby-faced Mark Antony Flores could be a swift fighter. What were the odds he alone could beat all three?

Wait. Alone?

In his purview, Rhode was just standing there leisurely, her hand on her hip as though she had all the time in the world. What in Hades was wrong with her?

"You're not going to help anymore?"

"Sometimes I'd rather just watch," Rhode replied, eyeing Aphro dude. "I like a man who can handle his own sword."

_The hell?_ Malcolm almost dropped his xíphos.

While the younger demigods laughed, Aphro dude spun his sword in his hand (as if that accomplished anything useful). He charged at Malcolm, trading off technique for greater force.

_Seriously?_

All Malcolm had to do was let him trip his unbalanced ass to the ground before disarming him.

_Pathetic_.

"Weight distribution," Malcolm couldn't help but point out. "You can do better than that." But it didn't matter anymore to the groaning face-planted demigod.

"Hey. So, um. However this ends," Mark Antony said to Rhode, "would you— Whoa there, Malcolm!" The son of Venus just _narrowly_ sidestepped a blow. "Would you be up for coffee or something sometime?"

Even Malcolm took a momentary pause to gawk at him. "_Dude_."

"Shooting my shot," Mark Antony said with a shrug and a glance at Rhode.

But Rhode frowned at him. "Are you even of _age?"_

Suleiman erupted in a snort. "He's nineteen!"

Rhode apologized.

One caught in embarrassment, the other in laughter, it was so easy for Malcolm to steal their weapons and stick blades to each of their throats.

"Get out," he growled.

"Well, that was easy," Rhode said. She was still standing there, wearing a smirk. Malcolm chose yet again to ignore her.

"_I like_ you," Mark Antony said.

"I like your confidence," Rhode grinned. "But I'm _still_ too old for you."

Meeting Malcolm's disgruntled expression, Suleiman said, "Legit, we weren't gonna beat you anyway."

"Well, you barely tried. How would _you_ know?" Malcolm said.

"Because I still have _bruises_ from our Friday training!" Suleiman protested.

"And if you remember correctly," Malcolm said, "it was Mark Antony who slammed his hilt onto you."

"Yeah, but we were fighting _you_," the culprit responded.

Amidst Malcolm's reminders that the injury could've been avoided if they had simply been paying attention (to which they attempted to argue that the _actual_ smart thing to do would have been to surrender before the fight had begun, right?), Rhode gave Suleiman an ice pack.

"Oh, _shit!_ You're a goddess!" Mark Antony exclaimed once introductions were finally made.

"And she's Princess," Malcolm added.

The goggling only intensified.

Just as Malcolm and Rhode were about to throw them into a jail, Mark Antony swore on the Styx they'd walk themselves to a prison outside the forest (insisting he _absolutely_ did _not_ need to be escorted to make a pit stop along the way). The young demigod proceeded to his sister over his shoulder, leaving Suleiman to pick up the other two unconscious demigods. Gladly excusing themselves from the scene, Mark Antony and Suleiman jabbered to themselves about the latest video game craze.

Malcolm and Rhode departed in the opposite direction, heading deeper into the forest.

"They talk too much for battle," Rhode muttered.

"That's their usual state. You'd think even if there aren't as many monsters around, people would still take things seriously, but nope."

That had been too easy. Well, of _course_ it was, he realized. How different was this situation, really, to the girls who earned street cred by operating as their fellow gang members' shields? At least Rhode could trust more fully that her rivals wouldn't be as violent. See, maybe if she'd just _told_ Malcolm her tactics in advance, he wouldn't feel the need to question or push back on her most absurd decisions…. _Although_ there was the matter of whether he'd even have _approved_ such a plan. And even so, her ploy left him uncomfortable for more reasons than one.

"Did that feel like cheating to you?" Malcolm asked.

"It's not _our_ fault they're too sexist to want to fight me. Because I have a feeling they'd still go after unarmed, armorless men," Rhode said. "And don't complain. You have work, remember?"

If anything, the son of Athena had to appreciate the efficiency.

"I also would rather be sitting down right now," she said, lifting her train even higher to step over a fallen branch and muttering about how much of a shame it was that she'd _just_ gotten a pedicure.

But, unfortunately for Rhode, the Athena and Poseidon team received orders from Alicia to head towards the cliffs ASAP.

"So, ähm, I'm flying on Blackjack now," the six-year-old said over comms. "I'm going to drop the smoke grenades. Mal and Ms. Rhode, please go right."

"Aww, she's so polite," Rhode noted. "She even said _'please'_."

But Malcolm was more concerned with the distance between them and their destination. "Can you _run_ in those sandals?" he said.

"Don't be silly. I'm going on horse," Rhode said, throwing a seashell in the air.

The saltwater sphere that burst out of the shell elongated and split in four at the bottom. Legs and hooves formed. Muscles outlined the haunches and torso of the horse. A tail and neck sprouted out.

"Can Percy do this, though?" Malcolm prodded.

Rhode groaned out a high-pitched sound that made Malcolm's own throat hurt. Though he itched to take off in a run, he figured it'd be rude to leave her to fend for herself.

The goddess took a moment. Her water horse lost its head, its tail, and some height to its legs.

Malcolm raised a brow. "We're wasting one shell on a _chair?_"

As Rhode took a seat and crossed her legs, the chair stretched to her left to a one-meter width. Malcolm gaped.

"Well, don't just stand there like an idiot," she said. "Hop on." She patted the seat beside her.

"I literally cannot believe this," he breathed. _Seriously. How? _

The moment he sat next to her, the sofa carried them eastward, out into the clearing, and whizzed north towards the beach. Yeah, this was _so_ fucking weird.

"I look left, you look right?" Malcolm suggested.

Rhode shot a momentary glance before taking heed. "I'll pretend not to be offended that you claimed the useful task and gave me such a pointless one."

"Well," he tried, "you're already dealing with the couch, so I gotta make myself useful somehow."

"Fine." She rested her chin on the upholstered back of the couch.

"For what it's worth, there doesn't appear to be anyone on this side either," he said.

It took another 46 seconds of silence before he caught sight of fleeing opponents on their left. Rhode rotated her couch, and together she and Malcolm shot shells at their moving targets, reminding him of the time he and his mortal brother used those spring-action shooters on a Toy Story ride at Disney World.

A squad of arrowed enemies approached, their flinging weapons destroyed by Rhode's makeshift shield. Two more shields took their opponents out.

Arriving near the cliffs, the duo rose from the trusty couch and regrouped with the other Athenians. Despite his internal warning system crying, DANGER!' Malcolm could freely run in with the comfort that a plan would be executed as optimally as could be allowed for. He easily fell into sync with his siblings, just as they'd practiced repeatedly during their group training. With forming, storming, and norming out of the way, all there would ever be left to do was perform.

Rhode tripped the enemy with her ropes of water, leaving Malcolm to disarm the soldiers and his younger siblings to shoo all those lacking. Annabeth and Claire, meanwhile, rounded in on the opponents wanting to brawl Conrad, who clenched the last flag wrapped around his hand. But an arrow whizzed past the sisters, catching Conrad in the leg. He fell to the ground.

Annabeth swooped for Conrad's thrown flag and _ran_.

Up on Blackjack, Alicia dropped Annabeth's cap to Claire—but an Ares soldier tackled Claire nevertheless. As Malcolm came to her rescue, Rhode, Sophie, and Zeke molly-whopped the rest of the asses following Annabeth. Leap by leap, Annabeth neared the cliffs, still sending it up on the opps on her way, and in what seemed like slow motion, she ran off the edge.

Malcolm's heart stopped. He knew it was her plan and he trusted Percy with her life, but—

"Annabeth?"

His sister's voice filled the void in his left ear. "I'm fine."

Malcolm let out his breath. The water had caught her. They had captured all four flags.

His other siblings quickly rounded up the remaining enemy. And in the time it took for Malcolm to raise his sword, Rhode tied up the five opponents around him. The only evidence she'd engaged in a fight was her windswept beach waves. Otherwise, she remained completely unscathed.

_Ya couldn't do that _earlier?_! _

He gritted his teeth even more as Rhode straightened her dress (as though there were any wrinkles in it at all), looked him dead in the eye, and took a bow, concluding by flipping her hair over her head. Malcolm couldn't make out the details, but it seemed he hadn't imagined the ink on her shoulder.

Knowing for certain that her smirking face was about to spew something infuriating, he got his word in first: "Oh, Princess, you don't have to _bow_ to me."

Rhode shot a disbelieving smile. "Do you feel so emasculated that you have to make some snide remark because I'm far more powerful?"

"I'm not _emasculated_," he said. "_Please_. _Continue_ to be my bodyguard. In fact, you can join the next game. I have better things to do than fight over cloths attached to sticks."

"And you thought I couldn't fight in a dress," she said.

"Hey, you two," Conrad said, limping a bit towards them, "we're done. We won."

Rhode rushed to give Conrad some nectar and Malcolm let his brother lean on him as Conrad caught them up with the rest of his siblings' happenings.

Facing an empty clearing and a pile of felled opponents, none of them could hold back a smile at a mission accomplished. They _really_ did it. They'd crushed the whole camp.

Gathering round the beach, the team exchanged cheers and high-fives. But were this not a simple game, Malcolm knew they'd stopped long ago, given Conrad's new injuries and the needless sacrifices of at least four pegasi. He hoped to Athena they'd never want to execute such an arrogant plan in real life. Surely, they were more Periclean than this game suggested.

"You know, I'm sure we could come up with a way to beat you if we wanted to," Annabeth told Percy, even as she smiled at him.

"Normally, I would believe you, but I don't know," Percy said. "Rhode's here, too. She could just protect me and wipe you all out with a snap of her fingers."

"No one messes with my little brother on my watch," Rhode said. "Not even you, Annabeth."

"It's _younger_ brother," Percy corrected.

"I met you when you were sixteen," said Rhode, "so no matter how much you age, Percy, you'll always be my little brother." She kissed his cheek and proceeded to apologize as she wiped lipstick off his face.

The children of Athena and Poseidon agreed to leave it at that and revel in their shared glory. This wasn't simply a one-off game; a payoff matrix would conclude that a win wouldn't be worth the loss of long-run trust.

The pegasi crowded around the Atlantian princess. "Well done, my sweets," Rhode said, laughing as she hugged their necks and pecked their bashful faces.

At this point, all the now-released prisoners had caught on. Malcolm estimated seven-tenths were pissed off, four-tenths were impressed, a third was bored, a quarter was ravenous, and a tenth was unconscious (or perhaps napping).

"Oh my gods. This is _ so _ romantic," squealed Valentina, a daughter of Aphrodite. If heart eyes could be communicated in real life, she proved it.

But were of a different opinion—including her own Roman brother, Pravir Bhattacharya, who grumbled about broken rules.

"There's no rule that says that non-demigod siblings can't join," Zeke pointed out.

More complaints of overpowered players were had, and the children of Athena thoroughly refuted their points. Some even threatened to invite their godly siblings to the upcoming games. But in their planning, neither Malcolm nor his siblings had seriously considered the long-term risk of setting a precedent for godly participation—because, of course, it would only be an issue if other godly siblings could give a shit.

Rhode surveyed the protesting opponents before them. "And now I'm making enemies," she murmured to Percy.

"They don't really hate you and you never have to work with them, so we're all good," Percy said.

Betrayals happened often in capture the flag anyway; almost all were forgotten within the week. The other campers were probably more interested in a hearty meal and a nap right now anyway. Indeed, the dining hall was filling up and lines formed by the showers (thank Annabeth and the Hephaestus cabin for installing bathrooms in the cabins).

"What do you do, Ms. Rhode?" asked Alicia.

Thankfully someone voiced the question. Malcolm didn't want to be the one who asked. He'd just focus on ambling over to Cabin Six with Conrad's weight on his right.

"Princessly duties," Rhode replied.

"What does that entail?" Sophie asked.

_ Yeah, what _ does _ that entail? Sitting on a throne, dressing up, and looking pretty? _

"Gaining soft power by maintaining and building relationships with sea deities, partaking in trade deals, conducting peace talks, mediating issues between parties in conflict…" Rhode said.

_ Oh. Huh. Okay. Wow. _

To be fair, though, mortal princesses didn't exactly have those roles. Royalty was just a show and a tourist attraction. But that didn't lessen Malcolm's guilt or shame.

"Plus, I get to throw my own party in Atlantis every year, which I will make sure to invite you all to," Rhode said.

"Lord Poseidon would allow children of Athena to visit Atlantis?" asked Alicia.

"Annabeth's visited several times," Rhode said. "And Bampás won't say no to me."

"Anything for his favorite daughter," Percy said.

"Favorite _ child," _ she teased, sticking her nose up at him.

"As you deserve to be," he said, throwing an arm around Rhode and squeezing her shoulders.

"No. I can always share the title with you, Percy," she said.

Yet again, Malcolm was forced to do a 180 then another 180. Either Rhode was such an inconsistent character, or he was terrible at judging. Maybe both, but he vowed he'd be less prejudiced. He'd have to observe first before coming to concrete conclusions. That'd do him some good. (And he could deal with the cortisol.)

* * *

To celebrate their win, the Athenians decided to throw a party in Cabin Six—their version of a party at least, which involved playing board games over olives and afternoon tea.

When their new Atlantian friend opted to stay for their festivities, Malcolm wondered if she'd realized they didn't have the same definition of "party". It was jarring to see her in the cabin, where that fancy dress clashed even more noticeably with simple Tees. But while Rhode passed on the sencha and olives, taking instead a coffee and some ambrosia, if _she_ felt like she didn't fit, she didn't let it show.

Malcolm eyed his computer and notes but ultimately put thoughts of work aside to partake in a game of Risk, during which Rhode perhaps made it a point not to mess with him. As relieved as he was, he was more annoyed by her suboptimal moves… before he caught onto her play of diplomacy and followed suit. Conrad probably would've won regardless.

Clusters of conversations then formed across the cabin. As Annabeth, Zeke, and Conrad discussed the physics of javelin throws, and Claire, Sophie, and Rhode deliberated over Atlantian energy policy, Malcolm inconspicuously observed Percy and Alicia's chat in an attempt to understand how the son of Poseidon took on childcare. It must've been a superpower of Percy's that he never even felt awkward around these little creatures, much less magic away the reservations of even the shyest of them.

"Alicia, you were incredible out there!" Percy said. He looked up at her face from his crouched stance. "Blackjack says you flew _ amazingly_."

The littlest of the Athenians beamed. "It's easier now. It was weird wearing Annabeth's cap. But it was fun. I used the other smoke grenades and the Ares team was really confused and before they knew it, we caught them! Did you see?"

"I did!" Percy told her. Uncontainable wonder burst from his eyes. "And because you did that, we could get the last flag and win the game! They totally didn't know what they were getting into going against you. They just fell or ran out because of the smoke! That was _ you! _ Your mom and dad would be proud."

Alicia's head bowed. "You think so?" she mumbled.

"I _ know _ so," Percy said with the kind of affection unknown to godly parents. "I know _ we're _ all proud of you. Ask anyone here. You. Were. _ Awesome_." He winked and spread out his arms.

Alicia filled the empty space and let him embrace her before being summoned by Claire, who heaped yet more praise upon her.

Child of Athena's rival be damned, Percy already seemed like part of the family. A permanent fixture in all their lives. Catching his classic doe-eyed expression fix on Annabeth, Malcolm figured that maybe Percy _ could _ be officially—not that he wasn't, but… maybe under the law….

Making his way to him, he told Percy quietly, "I think she actually wants you to ask her at some point," Malcolm told him quietly.

Percy huffed air from his nose. "This again?" he said. "Malcolm, me asking her isn't going to change anything."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do," Percy said. "It might even offend her."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm willing to bet a hundred bucks that you're wrong."

Percy went silent, his sea green eyes entirely unreadable. "Will you really?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Percy surveyed Annabeth. "You're gonna be so mad at yourself," he said quietly. "I'll prove you wrong. Then I'll get to say 'I told you so' and collect my winnings." Before Malcolm could argue back, Percy carried his voice across the room: "Hey, Annabeth?"

_ Oh, dear gods. _

He wasn't seriously— Why did he—? Curse the spontaneity of Poseidon's children.

Annabeth's head swiveled in her boyfriend's direction, and without missing a beat, Percy asked, "Can I marry you?"

His words caught the attention of the entire cabin. As shocked as she looked, Annabeth's lips curved into a smile, much to Malcolm's relief.

_ See? _

"Malcolm thinks that if I try to ask you again, you'll change your mind," Percy explained. "So I just wanted to check. Can I marry you?"

Her eyes flitted confusedly to her brother's before she faced her boyfriend. "Yeah," said Annabeth. "Yeah, you can."

_ Bingo! _ Malcolm's smile morphed into a broad, cheek-aching grin.

There was a collection of shocked gasps and squeals as the witnesses clutched onto each other's limbs. "Oh my gods! Did he just—? Did she just—? Did they just—?"

"See?" Percy told Malcolm. "Nothing's changed, so you owe us a hundred bucks."

Malcolm's brows furrowed. "But Annabeth just said—"

The gears in his brain were turning. Come to think of it, what played out actually _ didn't _ square with what Annabeth and Percy had told him. '_It's not something we're going to do.' 'Nothing's changed_._' _

Malcolm closed his eyes. _O theoi._ _ Athena forgive me. _"You were already engaged."

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!" Percy said.

Amidst the chorus of gobsmacked _ what?_s that erupted, Malcolm cursed himself.

"So disappointing, man," Percy said. "I mean, you literally had to have it spelled out for you."

"Just get over here," Malcolm said. With elation that far overpowered his internal groaning, Malcolm pulled Percy into a congratulatory hug until it was Rhode's turn to smother her brother.

"I can't believe you kept this from me!" she exclaimed.

Percy just laughed.

Once Annabeth finally escaped their siblings' hounding, she wrapped her arms around an ever so patient Percy's neck and pecked his lips. (There really wasn't much they could do in Cabin Six.)

"I just won you a hundred bucks from Malcolm," Percy told her. "And I'd give you the ring officially, but I know you already stole it from the cabin. You thief."

"Is it really considered thievery if it's mine?" Annabeth said. As she laughed, she pulled a ring out from a long necklace she wore under her shirt and held it out to Percy.

Siblings crowded around as the honors were done, both by him _ and her_. Because, _ of course_, Annabeth had her own ring to exchange—one she'd stored in a locked utilitarian box in her drawer in the cabin library.

It'd been there all along, Malcolm thought. It could've probably even been there when he'd had that talk with her.

"When did you get engaged?" Malcolm asked.

"It was … a while ago," Percy admitted.

Annabeth took his hand. "You _ do _ remember, right?" she teased.

Percy rolled his eyes and gave her a look as if to say, _ Are you serious? _ "Your birthday," he said.

"Her birthday?" Rhode said. "Aww! That's so sweet!"

_ But_...

"Wait. You mean her birthday that's two days from now?" Conrad asked.

"Fun fact: July 12th isn't exclusive to this year," said Percy.

He had to be kidding.

"You've been engaged for a _ year?" _ Sophie asked.

"And you didn't tell anyone?" Zeke said.

"You know," said Annabeth, "July 12th isn't exclusive to this year _ or _ the last."

Their jaws dropped in unison. "You're shitting me," Malcolm said.

"Language," Annabeth said. "There are kids present."

Malcolm's other siblings weren't having it either. "What in Hades? You asked Annabeth to marry you _ two _ years ago?" Conrad said.

"And she said _ yes?" _ Claire asked.

_ Hold on. _ Malcolm wasn't following anymore. Hadn't Annabeth _ not _ allowed Percy to propose?

"No," said Percy. "Two years ago, _ Annabeth _ asked me to marry her, and _ I _ said yes. I was going to ask, but she just had to _ rudely" _—he mock-glared at her as she smirked at him—"interrupt me and propose to me herself."

"_Two years ago? _" said Claire, looking almost betrayed. "That's insane! Why didn't you tell us?"

"Okay, we were only twenty-one and twenty," Annabeth said. "It was obviously going to happen _ anyway_, so it didn't actually matter how young we were. But we didn't want everyone to be all weird about it, so we just kept it between us."

_ Makes sense. _

"I'm sure Athena and Poseidon knew," said Percy.

"Oh whoa, whoa! Did you ask for her permission? I would have paid to see that," said Zeke.

"I didn't ask for her _ permission_," Percy said. Then even more strainedly, he added, "I just asked her not to kill me when I'd eventually ask."

Snorts and restrained giggles abounded from everyone but Rhode at the image of their stern mother impatiently staring down a stuttering Percy.

"You're all laughing now, but it really wasn't funny then," Percy said.

_ Oh, Percy. Precious Percy. _

Gods, Malcolm couldn't rein in his grin.

This was a moment he decided to commit to memory—with Alicia chattering cheerily, Zeke gaping and giggling intermittently, Sophie laughing louder than she'd typically let herself, Conrad lazing among them, and Claire emitting her rare squeals. Malcolm's own state was reflected off Princess Rhode, whose expression didn't indicate surprise or glee as much as a happy solace. Maybe that was what came with the job as an older sibling to demigods.

And, of course, _there_ was Annabeth and Percy, ever more loving and loved. Sharing grins as Percy kissed her temple, they looked like they were privy to secrets between only them. It was something Malcolm had envied at one point and another, but she deserved her secrets with him. They deserved their bubble, their tower, of just them. And after all the hell they'd been through—the figurative hells, the actual hell, the literally-worse-than-hell hell, and the post-hell hell—they deserved their happily ever after. On and off the battlefield, Annabeth and Percy made a great team. There was honestly nothing that would come between them, and even as an unromantic cynic, Malcolm believed that.

And you know what? Malcolm was only happy to part with a hundred bucks. Heck, he'd throw in a nice engagement gift, too.

Parting momentarily from her fiancée, Annabeth faced Malcolm with shining eyes and he enveloped her in another tight hug.

"Congratulations," he said. "I—" He couldn't find the words. Could he even talk with a smile so wide?

His sister's joy burst into laughter as she reciprocated her brother's embrace.

"I'm so happy for you," Malcolm said. A glance at Percy reminded him what this meant for her. "Another something permanent," he whispered in her ear.

Annabeth's head bobbed a smidge. Her breath had a shudder about it. "Kópros. Don't make me cry, Malcolm."

Her body rocked at its foundations as she gripped him tighter. And when she looked at him—bit lip constraining her smile, brows twitched ever so slightly, radiant gray eyes unusually soft—Malcolm could sense it off her: excitement… _ relief_… and gratitude.

_ Yeah_, Malcolm told her. _ Yeah, Annabeth. Anytime. _

"Oh! You know what this means?" Zeke bellowed with the cabin's trademark bright eyes that threatened to release a mental barrage.

"What?"

"We have a _ wedding _ to plan!"


End file.
